Voyages of a Wet Blanket
by Lieutenant Paladine
Summary: Self-Insert. I am the most dangerous thing in any world: An Outside Context Problem. And there is mayhem in the air. Watch as I travel the multiverse leaving a wake of chaos. Formerly Displacement in MassEffect
1. Chapter 1: Showers are Dangerous!

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor make any money from anything you might recognize, and several things you will not recognize. I do not own Mass Effect, Halo, Stargate, nor any other can of worms that I may open.

Author's Note: I am only listing the Disclaimer once, so pay attention to it. Also, this story is un-beta'd, and if anyone wants to volunteer that would be much appreciated. This is my first real attempt at a story, so constructive criticism is appreciated. No one wants destructive criticism.

Also, this is a Self Insert fic! If you don't want to read a story like that, there's a pair of nifty buttons on your browser: one points left, and the other is a big red X. Press them. Also note that this is now a crossover fic. Ye Be Warned!

This fic is rated M for a few reasons. While it may not merit that rating yet, it will very soon. There will be rape, death, blood, gore, drugs, mild bouts of humour, and the occasional incident of wild monkey sex.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

AN2: This story will not actually contain any wild monkey sex.

(This chapter has been edited for grammar and spelling. And it only took 1 year, 8 months, and two days! Obviously this is not a true update, more like a revision. I may actually spend some time writing more for this. Who knows?)

Greetings, All! On this the two-year anniversary of my original posting of this fic, I give you chapter two! Rejoice!

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><p>Voyages of a Wet Blanket<p>

(Formerly Displacement in Mass...Effect)

Chapter One: Showers Are Dangerous

I guess in stories like this the protagonist introduces him or herself. But in this tale I'm going to skip that and get straight into the meat of things. Psyche! Just kidding.

Hello, my name is Rick Anderson. That's right, my name is Mr. Anderson. Matrix for the win. I'm about twenty years old, and I stand at about six foot one. I'm fairly fit, about as much as the next guy. I have short, messy brown hair, and a very light tan. I'm Caucasian, and I currently reside in Canada. That's right, I'm a Canuck. My eyes are grey, and I have to wear glasses with pretty thick lenses. I'm fairly skinny, and mildly athletic. I tend to wear blue or black clothes, mostly jeans. Bizarrely, I hate cold weather, which is somewhat confusing considering where I live.

Anyhow, I was going about my morning in my usual manner, i.e. roll out of bed, shave, and then shower. I can't complain about my life, reading, doing schoolwork, and playing video games with my friends.

Today is Tuesday. I'm not sure about you, but for me, Tuesday generally sucks. You've already caught up with your friends after the last weekend, and the next is nowhere in sight.

As I step out of the tub after my shower, I lose my footing. With a voice crack of surprise I plummet to the floor. The last things I notice are a blur of blue and a shrill scream, and then darkness.

(Some time later)

Holy crap, slipping out of the shower hurts. In addition to a German Shepard sized headache, it feels as if someone kicked me in the ribs a couple times.

As my battered mind struggles towards coherency, I take stock of my surroundings. I seem to be lying on a bed in someone's bedroom. I know it's not mine, because it's way bigger and softer than mine. My bed is fifteen years old, and is a single bed. This monster is Queen-sized at least. I notice that I am currently naked, and this raises alarm bells in my head. I don't have a girlfriend, this isn't my house; what the hell is going on here? As I try to sit up, I notice another very important fact. I'm tied spread-eagled to the bed frame. This is inconvenient. Inconvenient, hell, this is bad. How did I get here? Was I drugged? Have I been raped? I start to panic, thrashing at my bonds. If the situation were different, I'd probably call this kinky, but my conditions are a bit too dire for that.

*Ahem* I hear someone clear their throat. Crap, I didn't notice anyone in the room. I can't say who they are, but I can tell that someone is sitting about five meters away to my left, in the corner. Would this be a bad time to remind you that I can't see anything clearly if it is more than six inches from my nose? Suffice to say they could be anyone, making any facial expression, and I wouldn't be able to tell. Stupid genetics. Anyway, there is someone sitting in a corner off to my left. I'm going to assume they tied me up, and hope that their agenda is moderately non-hostile.

"Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?" The person asks in a sultry female voice. If this was a Bond movie, we'd totally be having sex in about four minutes. Wishful thinking, Rick. My luck sucks.

Now that I know that my captor is female, I'm feeling a little less confused. "Who are you? Where am I? And how the heck did I get here?" I ask, ignoring her questions. We sit in silence, and I imagine she's glaring at me, but then again, how would I know? I squint into the dark corner where she sits, and am only able to make out a couple colours. Blue, black, and white. Mystery solved, my captor is wearing clothes. That makes me feel better. The chances of me being raped or having been raped are considerably lower. But we're getting off topic, now aren't we.

We stare at each other for a moment. At least, I'm trying to stare, as my vision isn't worth shite. Well, this is awkward. I don't really feel like keeping this going any longer, and so I introduce myself.

"Hello, my name is Rick Anderson, and I'm twenty years old. Now would you please tell me where I am, and how I got here? The last thing I remember is stepping out of the shower, and slipping." I say, trying to fight down a blush as I remember that I'm currently wearing only my birthday suit.

"My name is Mosvani, and I'm two hundred and some years old." Wait a second, did I hear that correctly?

"Sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you say you were two hundred years old?" I ask, hoping I had just misheard. With a voice like that there is no way in hell she's that old. She sounds like she's thirty. At the oldest.

"That is correct. One would be lead to believe that you have never met an Asari before." Wow, Mosvani is talking to me as if I'm three or something. Wait, where have I heard that name before? "And from the way you are squinting, one could also assume that your vision is impaired." Well, without my glasses I'm literally blind, or thereabouts. But on to more important things.

"Um Although why I would want to go out dressed only in a bed sheet I have no idea. I start pounding on the door, and am pleasantly surprised by the fact that it opens. Behind it stands a figure in a white and red uniform with orange patches on the sleeves. She, and yes, I know that she is female by the curves of the uniform, has red hair and is looking at me in astonishment. I guess she doesn't normally have twenty year old Canadian boys appearing from nowhere in her life. Guess it's time for me to introduce myself.

"Erm Thanks for opening the door. Um Yeah I suppose he would require some clothes, and perhaps an apology." Thank you Mosvani! Melding would definitely provide proof.

"I'm all for melding. I'm not crazy, and I'd really like to prove that. I'd also like to know how slipping while getting out of the shower transports me to another universe." I say hopefully.

"I too am curious as to how you appeared as I stepped out of the shower." Mosvani says calmly. Dang, I'd really like to be able to hold my cool like that.

"Very well. I'll observe, in case anything goes wrong." Dr. Michel says.

"What could possibly go wrong?" Mosvani asks. No, she did NOT just say that. I'm starting to get nervous here. I try to interject: "But-"

"Relax. Embrace Eternity!" Mosvani declares. Images flash through my mind, and suddenly my world is consumed with pain, pain of a magnitude I've never felt before. I scream in agony, as my muscles, nerves, and very being cry out in indescribably agony. I recover my sight briefly, and observe my world tilting onto its side, as both women rush to catch me. And the world goes black again.

This time, I regain consciousness in Dr. Michel's clinic. Ow, whatever happened hurt a lot. Every single muscle in my body, as well as what seems to be every nerve, is on fire. Not a small fire either, like a candle or campfire, no this is a fully-fledged prairie fire. If you haven't got the idea yet, I hurt. And on top of that, I have the mother of all headaches. I feel really, really tired too. I think I might Holy crap, that means she could die! I rush over, and start helping Dr. Michel.

"Gunshot, upper left shoulder. Subject: Quarian female. Suit breach with blood exposed to non-sterilized atmosphere. Antibiotics needed." I say, as I feel the knowledge flash through my mind. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? Ah well, dwell on that later, I have to help save a life. I reach into where I store the antibiotics-wait, I don't store antibiotics anywhere. What is going on? Did I somehow access Dr. Michel's memories or knowledge? I kind of think I did. This is weird. I grab an immunobooster, and peel apart the Quarian's suit so that I can inject for maximum benefit. I depress the injector button, remove it, and smooth back down her suit. As I do so, my fingertip brushes her blood-slicked skin, and that feeling returns, but way more intense. My skull feels like someone just dumped a Semi-truck full of stuff into it, and every cell on my body is screaming in agony, and the world goes black. Damn, there seems to be a pattern emerging.

Well, this is definitely a habit. At least this time I snap to a commendable level of alertness. And a good thing too, as I hear raised voices. I get off the bed, and discard the sheet, knowing that it will cause noise, and hinder my goal of remaining undetected. I quietly slip through the open door, and hide behind a pillar. Hey, I recognize this scene! It's from when Shepard comes looking for Tali, who went to the clinic because she was shot One I most definitely did not know before today A FemShep. Red hair, green eyes, and drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad Alliance regulations prohibit hair past the chin. Well, time to introduce myself to the locals.

I stride forward, and extend my hand towards my favourite soon-to-be-Spectre. "Hello, I'm Richard Anderson, you can call me Rick." There, I am no longer a nameless NPC! Yay!

"I thought humans were too weak to do anything without clothes. Huh." Oh, thanks Wrex, I really wanted to remember that I'm not wearing clothes. I believe I'm blushing bright enough to light a candle. I didn't know I blushed that far down. I'm saved by the door, which opens to reveal Mosvani, with a bag of clothes. Praise the Lord! No more Exhibitionist Rick! I snatch the bag from her hands, and dive through the door to the room I woke up in. I put on my clothes and return just in time to hear the group discussing I think he could be helpful. You saw how easily he took out those thugs, didn't you? We could use help like that. He has stealth skills, that's for sure. And he knows how to use a pistol; he took out that guy in under a second. He could be a great asset." Why thank you, Chief Williams!

"Alright, fine. Mr. Anderson can come with us." Says Commander Shepard with a slight smile in her tone.

I walk into the room, trying not to make too much noise. Most of the people have their backs to me, and even Dr. Michel, who is facing me, is distracted. I ghost up behind the Commander, until I can measure the distance in inches. Heheheh. This is going to be fun.

"Glad to hear that, Commander. I look forward to assisting you in this endeavor." I say, trying to surprise her. The "Eeep!" I hear informs me of my success. She whirls around, and before I know it, her fist is headed toward my face. My left hand whips up, and catches her punch.

"Good reflexes." I complement her.

"You too." She replies. I'm quite content to stare into her eyes, as they are exquisitely beautiful, but Garrus has other ideas.

"*Ahem* We should probably go see Fist about that Quarian." He suggests. We all nod, and we head out after saying goodbye to Dr. Michel and Mosvani.

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><p>Shepard's POV, Twenty Minutes earlier.<p>

After recruiting the Krogan mercenary, Wrex, I lead my team to the Med Clinic, in search of Officer Vakarian. I open the door and come face to face with a very unusual situation. Dr. Michel is being threatened by two of Fist's thugs, while an unknown white haired young man is strangling a third thug, without the others noticing. I bring up my weapon as one of the thugs moves to hold Dr. Michel hostage. Before I can react, the young man, who is quite obviously nude, moves into position with the speed and grace of a striking viper. He reaches around, and breaks the thug's neck with a vicious twist, and catches the thug's pistol, and proceeds to shoot the last thug. The sheer skill involved in the undertaking, as well as the finely-tune military precision, leave me impressed. His body also leaves me impr-Dammit Amanda, not while you're on the job! I shove my mind out of the gutter as he walks up to me with his hand outstretched, and an easy grin on his face. "Hello, I'm Richard Anderson, you can call me Rick." Hell-o! Mrowr! Down girl! I chastise myself, as while his abs are delicious, I probably shouldn't stare. Before I can greet him properly, Wrex brings back reality.

"I thought humans were too weak to do anything without clothes. Huh." And with that, Rick turns red. Aw, he's embarrassed! So cute! Before anything else can happen, an Asari steps through the door, carrying a bag of clothes. Wait, why doesn't he have any clothes? Not that I'm complaining exactly, I'm just wondering. Anyway, the poor man grabs the bag and rushes out to the room off to the right, and dives through the door with a somersault. I think I can hear Garrus mutter something about "Wish I could do that."

At this point, Gunnery Chief Williams speaks up. "I think we should ask him to help. He is clearly competent."

"He doesn't seem as weak as many of the humans I've encountered. He faced three armed men while stark naked. He's worthy." Wrex says in his rumbling voice.

Garrus isn't so sure. "Is it really a good idea to invite a civilian onto an investigation like this? Does he have any experience? Why is he here in the clinic anyway?" He asks, turning to Dr. Michel, who by this time seems to have calmed down.

"Rick is in the clinic because he had an adverse reaction to an Asari mind-meld. A second after Mosvani here uttered 'Embrace eternity,' he screamed in agony, collapsing in a twitching heap. We brought him to the clinic to try and discern what went wrong, and found some odd brain scans. I was going to check on him when a Quarian came in for treatment for a gunshot wound. While she was here, he came in garbed in a bed sheet, and somehow came up with the same diagnosis that I did, and went to the drawer that contained the treatment. He administered the immunobooster, and was smoothing her suit back in order when he seemed to have another episode, this time with his hair changing colour. He fell to the ground, clutching his head. Mosvani was out shopping for clothes as he doesn't have any." She added almost as if it were an afterthought. "I'm not sure what happened to him, as my equipment is not advanced enough to say what really changed in him. What I can tell is that his DNA has most definitely changed. His hair is white all the way down to the roots, and even below. I cannot explain what happened to him, or how he got in our apartment. It's a mystery." Dr. Michel finishes, throwing her hands up in the air.

Here Ashley Williams pipes up. "Why not recruit him? I think he could be helpful. You saw how easily he took out those thugs, didn't you? We could use help like that. He has stealth skills, that's for sure. And he knows how to use a pistol; he took out that guy in under a second. He could be a great asset."

"Alright, fine. Mr. Anderson can come with us." It doesn't hurt that he's handsome too-Dammit! You can't think of him like that, it's unprofessional.

"Glad to hear that, Commander. I look forward to assisting you in this endeavour." Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.

"Eeep!" I can't stop my reaction, and I whirl around my fist flying toward his face face. His left hand whips up, and catches my punch.

"Good reflexes." He compliments in his deliciously soft accent.

"You too." I reply. I'm quite content to stare into his entrancing eyes, but Garrus has other ideas.

"*Ahem* We should probably go see Fist about that Quarian." He suggests. We all nod, and we head out after saying goodbye to Dr. Michel and Mosvani.

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><p>Author's Note: Well, there you have it, the first chapter of my new story.<p>

Your Reviews Are Appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2: Complications

**Chapter Two: Complications**

We dashed out of the clinic, Shepard at the lead. We make good time to Chora's Den, ducking through the alleyway, and stacking up in front of the door.

"Kaidan, Singularity; Wrex Warp; Ashley assault rifle; Garrus on support." Shepard barks out. I discover that my Omnitool has more than a few military-grade programs on it. Thanks Mosvani! Sweet, Tech Armor!

"You're a Sentinel? I thought you were an Infiltrator?" Shepard is confused. I grin.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. I don't fit in those boxes."

"Well, so long as you can keep up."

The countdown begins, and the door opens. Inside the bar are a host of races, all of them hostile. I don't remember that many bad guys being here in the game. I sprint over to the edge of the circular bar, and get into cover, deploying a drone on the run as a distraction. My shoulders slam into the bar, my pulse racing through my veins. I want to vault over the bar, but I think I saw a figure on the other side when I booked it over here, I pop up and grab the figure before he can bring his shotgun to bear, and flip him over onto the ground, and stab him in the throat with a suddenly much stronger fist, pulping his throat. A wrenching shiver whips through my entire frame, my muscles burning. When my twitching body finally comes back under my own control, I realize that the man I just killed was Batarian. Batarians have different muscle structure than humans, and are stronger because of that. I killed him, and now my muscles feel different. I have a sinking feeling. Speaking of, how did I kill him? I didn't use my new omniblade, although I could have. It wasn't biotics, was it? It didn't glow, but the mass of my fist (And therefore the force of the blow) was increased drastically. I'm not sure it actually is biotics, but maybe I can test that. But first, I'd feel safer with a gun in my hands. I grab the Batarian's shotgun, and after a moment of hesitation, I take his Omnitool as well. He won't need it anymore.

I hop over the bar and take stock of the situation. Garrus is popping in and out of cover, slowly diminishing the forces of the enemy. The three Systems Alliance soldiers are holding their own, blasting away like a well-oiled machine. Wrex is a one-Krogan wrecking ball, as I expected. Huh, there's a combat knife under the bar here. That's convenient.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. The door we came through is open, and through it I can see what looks like a group of Blood Pack enforcers: Three Krogan, six Vorcha, and a pair of Varren.

"Others got here first Boss!" One of the Vorcha exclaims.

"I can see that. No one steals a bounty from the Blood Pack! CRUSH THEM!" Roars the huge Krogan in the middle. Thinking quickly, I snatch a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and toss it at the Vorcha, spilling alcohol everywhere. I follow up with an Incinerate, and am rewarded with the sticky smell of two Vorcha burning. Yuck.

I snarl at the Krogan Leader, my anger pooling power in my bones. I Charge him, slamming into him with my shotgun and knife at the ready. My sudden appearance in front of him shocks him so much that I can stick the barrel of my shotgun into his gaping mouth and pull the trigger, blowing a huge hole in his hump. I expect him to fall over dead any second now. He roars at me, and grabs me by the throat to throttle me. I guess I was a bit too arrogant, thinking that the shotgun would be enough to kill him. More fool me. My vision is getting a little grey around the edges. Funny, I thought I would die of old age or cancer, not a Krogan.

Something snaps.

"_**No."**_ A nova of energy rips through me, blasting the Krogan off me at a fantastic speed, blowing him back out the door and off the walkway. I raise both of my hands, fingers curled into gnarled cages, summoning invisible Singularities. I whip my hands as if throwing a pair of Frisbees, and I feel two Throws race from my fingertips to detonate my Singularities in an almost-visible discharge. Bits of Krogan and Vorcha rain down on me, and I feel sick, my guts twitching and retching. I fall to my hands and knees, and offer my own contribution to the tapestry of blood and chunks on the floor below me.

A hand brushes my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" It's Shepard, a caring expression on her face.

"Two things: Krogan don't like hugs, and Tech Armor needs to come with a helmet." That gets some chuckles. "I need a drink; I think I got some of that guy in my mouth." I grab a bottle off the shelf and take a chug or two. "Wow, this is good stuff." It's really tasty.

Everyone looks at me expectantly, and I take another swig.

"What?" I cock my left eyebrow and tilt my head to the right.

"That's Ryncol. The amount you just drank should have killed you by now." I look a little closer at the label.

"Huh. So it is." I drain the bottle and huck it at the wall, smashing the bottle to pieces.

"Maybe you should stay here." Shepard suggests.

"...Okay." I plop down on the floor, leaning against the bar. So I sit in this bar, broken stools all around me, with a bottle of whiskey in my hand. It's a Salarian whiskey, at least as far as I can tell. It has a picture of a Salarian on it anyway. Maybe its the Salarian equivalent of Captain Morgan's? As I take another sip, I am struck by a stray thought. I should go see Tali. I weave around corpses, practicing my drunken gait for my big acting debut.

I stagger down the alleyway, humming tunelessly and stopping periodically to drink from the bottle. I disable my Tech Armor, and turn a corner to see Tali and three of Saren's assassins.

I belch loudly, causing all four to turn in my direction.

"Wuss...Wussat?" I slur, slouching over and blinking blearily. I walk over and "trip" into the Turian. "Oh, my bad. Sorry." I accidentally knee him in the crotch and spill some whiskey on him.

"Who's he?" Tali asks accusingly. "I was told this was a secluded spot."

"'Sa shortcut, Short-stuff." I slur, bringing my hand up to awkwardly pat her on the head, manoeuvring her behind the crate. I can't believe they're falling for this.

"Hey, what are you doing, you Bosh'tet?!"

"Saving your life." My Omnitool lights up with an incinerate, and I use my other hand to launch a Shockwave. Once again, it manifests as a colourless distortion in the air. The Turian assassin is burnt to a crisp, screaming in agony for a fraction of a second before he expires. The two Salarians are crumpled bonelessly on either side of the alley, likely dead.

"No funny moves, Mister! I'm warning you: I have a shotgun." Tali pokes me with her shotgun.

"Calm down Short-stuff. Those were assassins sent to kill you."

"Who would do that?"

"Fist set you up. He no longer works for the Shadow Brokers; he found a better offer from Saren."

"How do you know that?"

"The Broker's bounty hunter told me." I haven't had the best luck with shotguns today, so I don't feel like tempting fate. Best to keep it simple and to the point. "Now, let's introduce ourselves like the civilized beings we are. I'm Richard Anderson."

"Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Zorah. I guess this wasn't exactly what you had in mind for your pilgrimage?"

"Not really, no." I love that pseudo-Russian accent; the game just doesn't do it justice. "How do you know—"

"—About your pilgrimage? It's not exactly a secret. If you ask the right questions you can learn a lot."

Tali Lowers her shotgun. "Why did you save me?"

"You carry information that is vital to the continued survival of life as we know it, Not only that, but you are just as important."

My mind wanders down the warren of paths that the future could lead down. Feros Colony. Noveria. Virmire. Ilos. The Citadel. Ilium. Horizon. Tuchanka. Omega. Sur'kesh. Palaven. Earth. So much can go wrong.

I hear a cough. Wow, I really zoned out.

"Sorry about that."

I hear boots charging up the alleyway from behind me, and I drop into a defensive stance, ready for anything. Around the corner comes Shepard, followed by Garrus, Wrex, and the others.

"Richard?! How?"

I hold up the bottle of whiskey proudly. "Salarian whiskey is flammable." I point to the two Salarian assassins. "They couldn't hold their liquor." I take another swig to punctuate the joke.

"Are you drunk?" Ashley asks, her disgust evident in her tone.

"Not yet." I snark.

"How the hell aren't you drunk yet?—No, Scratch that: How the HELL are you still alive?!" Kaidan exclaims.

"Search me." I shrug, and rub salt in the wound by draining the bottle. I swear officer, it's just water!

Everyone stares at me.

"What?" I'm the very picture of innocence.

"Never mind. Richard, good job saving—I'm sorry, what was your name?" Shepard takes charge.

I Rummage through the assassins' Omnitools, bored with the conversation.

Not too bad of a haul: 42,330 credits, seven units of Omnigel, and a kill order on Tali.

"Richard, what did you find?" All eyes are on me.

"Listen to this:" I play the clip.

Hunt down the Quarian Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya. [A Hologram of Tali appears]. Kill her and retrieve the data. Fist can assist you with your task.

"Saren." Garrus growls.

"Great job, Richard." I beam happily. I done good, real good.

"Kaidan, Take Richard to Dr. Chakwas, get him checked out." Wait, what? Shepard looks at me. "you drank an entire bottle of Ryncol, as well as three quarters of a bottle of Salarian whiskey. You. Should. Be. Dead."

"Fair enough. Lead the way, my good sir." I gesture magnanimously to Kaidan. He leads me back to the elevator, and up to the docking bay. There I receive my first glimpse of the Normandy. It's a bit bigger than I thought. Kaidan doesn't let me linger however, and continues on to Chakwas' lair. I mean lab. Lab.

Another migraine Lieutenant?"

"Actually, no. The Commander wanted me to escort this fellow to see you." Chakwas gives me a visual check-up.

"Richard Anderson. Call me Rick." I introduce myself politely.

"Karin Chakwas. He looks fine to me."

"I'm fine. No needles needed here. Can I go?" I may have a small fear of needles, and doctors in general.

"Sit down." Kaidan orders. "He's had an entire bottle of Salarian whiskey, as well as Ryncol." Thanks for that you tattling Elvis impersonator.

"How much Ryncol?" She sounds worried.

"Two litres."

"And he WALKED here?! He should be dead! Inconceivable!"

"I do not think that means what you think it means." Chakwas bursts into laughter while Kaidan misses the reference.

"I had no idea people still watched that film." She chuckles.

"I respect the classics."

Chakwas begins to scan me with her Omnitool, along with a bunch of other machines which look sort of familiar. I wince as she takes my blood. While I wait, I mess around with my Omnitools, trying to boost their capabilities. I hear muttering coming from the good doctor.

"Eh, what's up Doc?" I ask in my best Bugs Bunny impersonation.

"Your blood work makes no sense. Normally plasma makes up 55 percent of blood, with cells making up the other 45 percent. You only have plasma. The saying 'Blood is thicker than water' does not apply to you." She looks at me closely. "I want to try something."

"Go ahead."

"Lieutenant, please go get me a litre of drinking water." Kaidan leaves and comes back after a minute or two. "Drink it." I don't see what the big deal is, but she's the boss. I chug the bottle, and look at Chakwas.

"Wait, if my blood is just plasma, how can my cuts heal? Wouldn't I need white blood cells for that? And if I don't have red blood cells, why is my blood still red?"

"I have no idea. You should not be able to heal at all; actually, you should be dead. I have no explanation."

'So what was the water for?" Can you blame me for changing the subject? I was just told that I should be dead, I don't want to deal with that right now.

"I wanted a urine sample to see if there are any traces of anything informative, since your blood appears useless." That makes sense.

"How were you able to do all that in the bar?" Oh hey, Kaidan. I had almost forgotten you were still here.

"What, you don't recognize biotics?"

"Those weren't biotics. I'm not sure what they were." Kaidan's face furrows in a frustrated frown. Once again Chakwas' Omnitool lights up, scanning me.

"There is no trace of Element Zero in his body at all."

"Then how can I do this?" I summon a light Singularity, lifting the bottle from my hands and into the air. The two Alliance personnel are perplexed.

"There is no glow." Kaidan sounds dumbfounded.

"I'm a person, not a light fixture."

"You don't understand: biotics always glow. Some glow purple, but most glow blue. You don't glow."

"You also do not have any Element Zero nodes, which are necessary to manipulate biotic energy. Once again you defy everything we know about medicine and physics. I don't know how much more I can take." Chakwas sighs.

"Sorry." I let the bottle drop to the bed.

"I'd like to keep you here for observation, Richard. At least until I feel that you are in no danger of spontaneous expiration."

"That's fair. Can I have a shower first?"

"Of course, you certainly could use one. What is that covering you anyway?"

"Krogan and Vorcha, I believe. Flare should not be used at close range." Kaidan blances at that.

"You need a shower." I take a sniff of my sleeve and cringe. Yikes, I do need a shower, and stat!

"How the heck didn't you notice before?" Kaidan askes, giving more credence to the Canadian stereotype.

"I don't know, but now that I can smell myself I kind of wish for that ignorance back. Where can I fix this?"

"Men's washroom. Here, I'll show you."

"Much appreciated." He leads me to the bathroom, and shows me where the toiletries are, Moments later, and I was basking in the warm water. Paradise. I turn around, eyes still closed, to wash my front. My left foot slips on a fragment of soap discarded on the floor. I fall backwards, my eyes snapping open in shock. Ship-borad lighting changes into the sun, and I slam into the sand. I see a ring of spears pointed at me, and angry eyes staring down.

"Oh F—"


End file.
